That Infernal Ring
by MasteroftheManor
Summary: "I had thought – hoped, rather… that now the screaming would cease. The pattern of death ends with me. I thought now, maybe the ghosts would leave me alone. But they're louder than ever." Anime canon, post season two. Spoilers.


With distant eyes, the young earl held out his left hand to the butler kneeling on the floor. Everything was blue: the dark hair that fell in the boy's face, the large eye pointedly averted from the man near the floor, the ring being carefully slid onto his thumb, and the disposition of its owner, moreso than usual. The earl took his hand back the moment he could and examined the ring, twisting it in his fingers delicately, an ever-present frown playing on his lips.

"Something wrong, my lord?"

The tall man was standing, looking at Ciel with the mask of contented inquiry, as though questioning the boy's problems were strictly a formality, and not the jarring annoyance he knew them to be for the butler.

"…" Ciel turned the ring just so the light from fickering candles made the diamond's blue light shine right in his own eye. The brilliance would dazzle a normal man, but for Ciel, it simply made his shoulders sink. "I can still hear them."

"Young master?"

"The screams… I can still hear them." He turned his head sharply to the left, removing Sebastian from his line of sight completely. "I had thought – hoped, rather… that now the screaming would cease. The pattern of death ends with me," eyes on a spot of moonbeam peeking through the curtains, the earl wasn't even aware he was twisting the ring in his hands. "I thought now, maybe the ghosts would leave me alone. But they're louder than ever." His ring hand suddenly clenched into a tight fist, lip curling. "Sebastian. Make it stop."

Silence. The butler said not a word. As no words filled the air, Ciel felt as though each second, vines were creeping along his body, winding around his limbs and torso. They climbed and grew tighter, tighter, and a crackling reached his ears from the distance. White noise. The vines squeezed and the silence was deafening, he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't—

"I cannot help you, my young lord."

Ciel's eyes opened (he hadn't realized he had shut them) and for the first time, he looked to the man before him. Towering above him, the man clad in black had an almost mocking smile curling the ends of his lips, scarlet eyes hiding something. Sadism, most likely, Ciel would later bitterly think.

"What do you mean you can't help me."

"Those screams are yours and yours alone. The echo of your past is still quite strong, and from the looks of you, it will be for quite some time. While you bear the Phantomhive name and wear the Phantomhive ring, your roots remain strong. While your roots are strong, the screaming will follow." The butler tilted his head slightly, softly, and Ciel had to scowl at the condescension practically dripping from him. "Perhaps it will never leave you."

Anger suddenly pulsed through the boy. He didn't want to hear that. The screams following him—that was simply not an option. His large blue eye flashed bright fuschia, pupil becoming a slit as though it were pierced with a knife. "…Get out."

"…" The smirk slid from the butler's face, replaced by stony professionalism: his usual cover-up for responding with less than polite tones. "… Yes, my lord." He crossed his chest with an arm, bowed slightly, turned on his heel and left the study, closing the door behind him.

Ciel remained glaring at the door as it clicked shut, eye reverting to its usual placid blue.

"…"

He stood, pushing himself away from the large chair on which he was sitting, and made his way to a small table. Usually for alcohol for adults, Ciel's was for tea, and attached to the back was a large mirror he had placed there one day on a whim. He looked at himself with that same frown.

Shedding his large jacket, he threw it haphazardly on the floor, eyes never leaving his own reflection. His hat was flung away, his tie yanked loose to limply hang around his collar, his eye-patch clawed off his head, and finally he took the infernal ring from his thumb and clenched it in his hand. He held it at his side and let it fall to the floor, as his eyes met the mirrored ones. First curse mark, then blue, then fuschia, then curse. Fuschia, curse, blue, curse; over and over his eyes changed through the anger beginning to bubble in his stomach.

The white noise was back. Hissing in his ear like an angry snake, the buzzing went on and on, louder and louder, filling his head. Ciel's eyes were both burning with that demonic fuschia, his hands gripping the edge of the small table so tightly it began to shake. He was losing control. He knew he had to get a grip—but the reason why was slipping away. Appearances? Who really cared anymore, honestly? Sebastian was the only other one in the manor at the moment, and being stuck with a man for all eternity means you won't be able to hide much from him. So why stop the anger? Why stop the upheaval from rage (and testosterone) from manifesting itself like it so clearly wanted?

No reason.

The table shook, and the noise in Ciel's head was becoming screams. The crackle of silence was being filled by his father, his mother, and other previous Phantomhives' death shrieks, ringing in his ears, echoing in his head, pulsating so loudly he was amazed his head was holding together. His hands shot upward in tight fists and his eyes finally closed; tightly holding his head by pressing his fists into his temples, he tried to keep his skull together. The screams seemed to want to explode out of him. The pressure was near unbearable.

All at once, his throat began to feel scratchy. It was only then, after a deep gulp of air, that he noticed he too had been screaming. Loudly. With all his lungs could manage. And it wasn't enough. The screams won. His head pounded with sharp, unbearable pain, and everything went black.

…

Gasping, Ciel's eye shot open, and he rocketed to a sitting position. Catching his breath, he looked around with his good eye, seeing only the interior of his room. Sunlight lit the walls and rug, the calm of the room in stark contrast to Ciel's panic. He reached up to take handfuls of his hair, and found the eye-patch was once again affixed to his head, tight in a neat little bow. Breathing returning to normal as he continued looking around, Ciel rubbed his head, still aching with the resonation of the splitting pain inside of it not long ago.

Or was it inside of him? He was starting to doubt himself. Was that a dream? A nightmare?

"Ah, you're already awake." A familiar voice called from across the room. A pale face framed with black hair beamed at the boy, walking briskly in with a tray held between gloved hands. "This morning we have a nice Darjeeling fresh off the boat from India," he recited, pouring nothing into a fine china cup and carefully handing it to Ciel. "Today you have a French lesson with Mrs. Hayworth, and violin practice to follow. You are then wanted in town for the revealing of the newest Funtom Toy, an hour at the most." The butler smiled as Ciel frowned, taking the empty cup and holding it near his face.

"…. Sebastian." The earl frowned into the cup, the dream seeming to fade away in his mind, becoming distant.

"Yes?"

"… I would like a scone." He finished, deciding there would be no need to ask about what he knew to be fruitless.

"Yes, right away. Oh, and young master," Sebastian's voice called, his shadow looming over Ciel enough to make him begrudgingly look up into the butler's face. "You left this on the floor in the study." He took Ciel's left hand for a brief moment, letting the blue ring shine on his thumb once more. "Do be more careful with it."


End file.
